Work Text:
House wakes up with a dull pain in his leg. It's bad, but not worse than usual. A small smile tugs at the left side of his lips as he looks to the other side of the bed. There he lies: James Wilson, head of the oncology department and, by some miracle, his boyfriend. They’ve been through a lot, and by a lot, he means A LOT.
Wilson had been there when House withdrew from Vicodin, relapsed, and tried again. He held him when he cried on the bathroom floor, sweating and shaking with pain. Nobody else called or asked if he was fine, but House didn’t care because Wilson was there during those moments, and he needed no one else.
“Morning, House,” Wilson mumbles, his voice still very sleepy.
“Morning, Wilson,” House replies, a full smile now appearing on his face as he watches Wilson grumble about wanting cuddles. Wilson opens his arms, signaling House to come in for a hug.
One fun fact about Wilson is that he always needs his morning cuddles; otherwise, he can't function throughout the day. They usually don’t see each other much during the day, and there’s not enough time for hugs and long kisses, which he needs so badly. So, this is his last opportunity until the evening.
“I love you, House,” Wilson suddenly says, no longer sounding sleepy. House turns his head towards the man he loves so much as he lays in his arms. Wilson looks at him like he’s the world's most wanted trophy, and House's chest floods with a warm feeling that no one else has ever made him feel.
“I love you too,” House mumbles into Wilson’s chest. “So much,” he adds even more quietly, but Wilson hears it. Wilson rests his chin on the top of House’s head and closes his eyes for a few minutes, letting the cozy feeling wash over them before they have to go to work
“Come on, let’s get up. I’ll make breakfast so you can get ready in peace, yeah?”
House smiles, knowing that Wilson understands he needs his morning routine to avoid being grumpy.
“Yes, thank you, Mommy,” he jokes, but Wilson just rolls his eyes and throws his shirt at him. House giggles like a schoolgirl. God, he loves this man.
After a while, he’s ready and limps into the kitchen. The familiar sound of his cane tapping on the floor announces his arrival before he’s even there, so Wilson expects nothing less than House’s arms around his waist as soon as he hears the taps.
A kiss is planted on the exposed skin of Wilson’s neck while House whispers, “The pancakes smell amazing, but you also look fabulous.”
Wilson turns around in his arms and gives House a playful push against his chest. “You need to let me go if you want breakfast, sweetheart. After that, we can continue,” he says with a wink and a smirk.
House chuckles, reluctantly releasing Wilson. “Fine, but hurry up. I’m starving,” he teases, watching Wilson with a fond gaze as he turns back to the stove. The kitchen fills with the delicious aroma of pancakes and coffee, and House takes a seat at the small table, savoring the peaceful moment.
Wilson hums softly to himself as he flips the pancakes, occasionally glancing over his shoulder to smile at House. It’s these quiet mornings that House treasures the most, the simple domesticity of their life together a balm to his usually chaotic existence.
Breakfast is soon ready, and Wilson sets a plate of pancakes in front of House, along with a steaming cup of coffee. House digs in eagerly, the first bite eliciting a satisfied groan. “These are perfect,” he says, his mouth half-full.
Wilson laughs, shaking his head. “You say that every time.”
“And I mean it every time,” House retorts, a playful gleam in his eyes.
They eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the only sounds the clinking of cutlery and the occasional sip of coffee. Once they’re finished, Wilson clears the plates, and House watches him with a contented smile.
As Wilson starts washing the dishes, House limps over and wraps his arms around him from behind, resting his chin on Wilson’s shoulder. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he murmurs
.
Wilson turns his head slightly, planting a kiss on House’s cheek. “You don’t have to deserve me, House. I’m here because I want to be.”
House tightens his hold on Wilson, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. “Thank you,” he whispers.
They stand there for a few moments, wrapped in each other’s warmth, before Wilson gently extricates himself. “We should get ready for work,” he says softly.
House nods, reluctantly letting go. “Yeah, I guess we should.”
He gives Wilson one last kiss before heading to the bathroom to finish getting ready.
The rest of the day passes in a blur of patients and paperwork. By the time House finally finishes, his leg is throbbing, and he’s more than ready to head home. He limps out to the parking lot, finding Wilson already waiting by the car.
“Rough day?” Wilson asks, concern evident in his eyes.
House nods, sighing. “Yeah, but it’s over now.”
Wilson wraps an arm around House’s waist, helping him into the car. “Let’s get you home and relaxed,” he says softly.
Wilson sits down beside him on the couch, pulling House’s legs into his lap and gently massaging the around sore muscles. House sighs in relief, the tension slowly ebbing away under Wilson’s skilled hands.
“You’re too good to me,” House murmurs, his voice heavy with fatigue.
Wilson smiles, leaning down to press a kiss to House’s forehead. “And you’re worth every bit of it,” he replies softly.
They stay like that for a while, the room filled with the soft sounds of their breathing and the ticking of the clock on the wall. It’s a simple, quiet moment, but for House, it’s everything.
As the evening wears on, they eventually move to the bedroom, House’s pain finally dulled enough for him to sleep. They curl up together under the covers, Wilson’s arms wrapped around House in a protective embrace.
“I love you,” House whispers into the darkness, his voice barely audible.
“I love you too,” Wilson replies, his breath warm against House’s neck.
And with that, they drift off to sleep, their hearts beating in perfect harmony.